Days Spent in Crimson Fear
by DekkaDemon
Summary: It's 2123, and most of the world has succumbed to chaos after the Mushroom War. But amidst this newfound chaos, Simon is thrown into Pendleton Asylum after being confirmed as insane. His cell-mate, Marceline, is far from crazy. But he unravels a mystery around this strange but peculiar woman... [Bubbline] [Futuristic AU] May contain scenes of cruelty, violence, gore and swearing.
1. Prologue: Bombs, Death and Madness

**Hey guys! I think I'm going to have fun writing this fic. However, this will be a side fic compared to What Keeps the Heart Beating.  
><strong>**Also, I'm not quite sure what the title of this fic should be, so this is temporary. If you choose to review, I'd be glad if you could suggest a title.  
><strong>**Thanks! Enjoy ~**

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><p>One moment, the sky was a glorious blue, free from dark clouds and pollution in the atmosphere.<p>

The next moment, above everyone's heads was a sinister grey fog, sending foreboding shivers to anyone whom happened to gaze upon it. The sun had disappeared in a haze of black, and the shadows crept across the ground, engulfing every last shred of light cast onto the surface of Earth.

People from all over the world wondered what had actually happened to cause this; but before they could even report on it, debris caught in ferocious flames fell from the sky, shattering buildings, vehicles and people. Some people thought it was an asteroid shower, but pieces of cars and furniture didn't count as meteors. Blood sprayed across the concrete ground as millions of people were crushed by shrapnel, limbs and organs splattering the floor in a gruesome matter.

The citizens who were still alive had no idea what was going on; all they could do was scream and run. Even that didn't get them too far. Tremors rumbled through the ground, lurching anything on the ground into the air, only to burst into a blood explosion as they plunged 50 metres into the breaking Earth.

People ran like madmen, shrieking in pain as shards of metal dug into their legs; but they didn't give up. They all ran for the safe houses and underground chambers, whether you were in the northernmost country or the most isolated island.

Many of the people who survived the first ten minutes had blood painted over their bodies like a toddler's artwork. Either they had been hit by debris, or they had been thrown by the earthquakes that made anyone plummet to the ground with full force.

It wasn't over yet though.

Despite the leadership of the two warring countries, they were stupid enough to launch more bombs into their rivals, causing catastrophic consequences for continents on the other side of the world to them.

Skyscrapers toppled over onto other buildings as the convulsion from the ground quickened its pace and became more violent. People fled for their lives out of the collapsing buildings, but it was too late and they were doomed.

It had been thirteen minutes since the first reported death when the death toll had reached fifty million. The cities that had been attacked by the bombs had been instantly vaporised as the nuclear forces that erupted from the atomic weapons had enough power to crack Earth in half. Most of the attacks were directed at the main states of the US and the recently split up Russia, which became three countries; to the east became Pirenschlek, central Norlein, and west Goirga.

The first descendent of Russia to be wiped out by the bombings was Goirga, which held the capital, Moscow. The Eastern Europe borderline countries were scorched from the heat of the bomb as well.

In defence for its brother country, Norlein launched three nuclear missiles, followed by an atomic bomb on Washington DC, New York and California. Surrounding states had been critically damaged as well, such as Nevada and Pennsylvania.

The world was falling into chaos.

Out of the atmosphere, orbiting Earth, were three ex-Russian satellites, Ares, Artemis and Athena. The US had five; Astrum, Stellae, Sidus, Bellum, Concurro.

Only Bellum and Concurro, both of which were Latin for 'warfare' and 'battle', had weaponry at disposal.

All three ex-Russian satellites had weapons, including missiles, atomic bombs, and two hydrogen bombs.

Earth was going to fall into a craze of chaos, and nobody could stop it.

The next countries that were targeted by the missiles and bombs were Afghanistan, Vietnam, Korea, Cuba, Peru and Ukraine. The death toll went up by the millions.

60,000,000.

80,000,000.

130,000,000.

The numbers kept rising.

The higher-ranked countries that still hadn't been attacked called each other with a group hologram. The British Prime Minister (monarchy had been overruled 60 odd years ago) had called the Australian, Indian, Canadian and French rulers. They proposed to send missiles to the satellites governing the bombs, stopping the war and saving the planet.

Three hours later and Ares, Athena and Bellum had exploded; the citizens of Earth saw a bright flash the size of the moon in the clouded sky.

The US government saw the risk of the other countries engaging warfare out of Earth's atmosphere, and in return, sent missiles to blow up two French satellites.

Now, there was a war not just on the surface if Earth, but out into the orbit around the planet too, endangering the world furthermore.

The madness had to stop.

In a desperate attempt to finish the war as quickly as it started, the British government hired a group of hitman to assassinate the rulers of the US and Norlein, believing it would be safe enough to let the Pirenchlek leader alive.

Eighteen hours after the first bomb hit Earth, the death of Imelo Korchsterov, ruler of Norlein, had spread across the remaining countries of the world. Even after the US President heard about his nemesis' assassination, he still sent an atomic bomb to Norlein to destroy any last hope for another bomb.

Four hours later, and the US President was found dead in a pool of his own blood drenched into his bedsheets.

The two main war leaders had been eliminated, but enraged by the fall of it's brother country, Pirenschlek threatened to release the only hydrogen bomb they had onto Britain. The British Prime Minister saw that the ex-Russian country would in fact, drop the bomb onto the UK, and ordered evacuation from the country. Fearing that he wouldn't live, he called the French ruler, warning the country about the hydrogen bomb that would be planted onto European soil.

An hour after the hologram call with the French ruler, 92 planes were sighted leaving the UK and France towards the Southern Hemisphere. Most of the Northern Hemisphere had been attacked by bombs and figured it wouldn't be safe staying.

And so, 67 of those planes arrived in Australia, 22 in Brazil and 3 in Antarctica. The Pirenschlek President realised that the British Prime Minister had fled the country, and sent a threat saying that if he were to return to Britain, he would release the hydrogen bomb on the country.

The British leader, fearing that the people whom hadn't caught a plane and deserted the country would be slaughtered by the bomb, took hostage in Australia and vowed not to return to Britain.

For now, the war had been stopped.

No more bombs were released onto Earth's soil after the blackmail of the British Prime Minister.

The battle between the US and the ex-Russian countries had ended so quickly that the remaining historians couldn't even call it a war.

But before anyone could disagree, some people had called it the Mushroom War, and the name had stuck. Some people questioned why it was called the _Mushroom _War, and had been reasoned by the fact that there were so many atomic bombs released, and they formed a mushroom cloud once they had exploded.

It was the first battle, or war, that had ordered so many atomic bombs onto the surface of Earth that everyone was sure that it was an apocalypse.

Three days after the first bomb had hit the surface, citizens were confident that they would be safe, since the atomic bombs had been altered so that they wouldn't cause cancer and poisoning so another Hiroshima endemic wouldn't occur worldwide.

They were wrong.

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><p>A man, presumedly in his late thirties, with thick, long dirty brown hair was hiking in one of the northernmost parts of Goirga by himself. He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, finding it difficult to see through the frosted lenses. He sighed, and clambered up the icy cliff that would apparently lead him to the treasure he'd sought for his whole life.<p>

20 minutes of climbing later, and he found himself at the top of the cliff face, breathing heavily and shaking with the cold; not to mention the weary and frightened expression set on his features.

Just as he was about continue hiking, a beeping noise chimed from his pocket; the sound of a com. He dug his gloved hand into his pants and pulled out a comnet, the name 'Betty' lingering on the screen. He smiled, a toothy grin indeed, and tapped the 'receive com' text on the small screen.

An attractive and pale face appeared on the comnet's screen, hidden by a tangled mess of light brown hair. Her expression was grim and menacing; an unpleasant look that made the man wipe away his smile.

"What's wrong darling?" he asked, a worrying tone edged into his words.

"Simon, we've been warned that Moscow could be attacked from America," she whispered, a horrified look in her eyes. "I'm scared."

The man widened his eyes in fear, his bones trembling not only from the cold, but from terror.

"Betty!" he screamed, tears welling in his eyes as his bottom lip quivering. "Can you evacuate?"

She shook her head, a saddening expression set on her face. "Only a few were elected to leave the country."

"Betty…"

"I love you Simon."

The comnet's screen flickered and the life went out of it, leaving Simon horrified. His heart went numb at the thought of losing Betty, and he collapsed to his knees, snow splattering over his body.

"Betty!" he weeped, continuing to call her name out. His fists pounded into the bitter cold ice as he attacked the snow, all the while tears streamed down his face, freezing onto his cheeks.

Simon huddled into the snow, his limbs loosing all feeling as he slipped into unconsciousness. He blacked out to the thought of Betty snuggled into his body on the couch in his nicely furnished house in Moscow.

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><p>Two Russians from Goirga whom had fled Moscow, hoping to survive the bomb that was being sent to destroy their city, found Simon frozen in the snow. They immediately took him into their truck, offering warmth to the unconscious stranger. They searched for his pulse, and fortunately enough, found one, though it was dim and slow.<p>

The Goirgan Russians travelled to Norlein, hoping to survive and be accepted into their brother country. 17 hours later, they arrived at the border with a now conscious Simon whom seemed rather distraught. The first atomic bomb had landed on Moscow, sending out waves of nuclear energy around Goirga. The hikers who helped Simon were afraid that maybe they were infected by the nuclear energy, much like the Hiroshima incident, but they hadn't seen any signs of infection or sickness.

Three days later, once Korchsterov had been assassinated, they fled Norlein and flew to Australia, hoping to take refugee in a safer country. Simon still wouldn't talk, and he always had a weary expression on his face, dark bags under his eyes and pursed lips that never smiled.

One of the hikers was afraid for Simon's wellbeing, and he was about to call for help at a nearby hospital until he started experiencing uncontrollable twitching throughout his body. He broke down half way walking down the street to the hospital, screeching out gibberish in a manic manor. Falling to his knees, he started to claw at his face, his nails drawing blood from his cheeks.

Citizens walking around him wailed as he tried to tear his face apart, ripping skin and flesh until his jawbone was exposed.

People who were near him when he conducted this act recalled that he shrieked out something about having bugs crawling into his mouth and eyes, before he started trying to rip out the invisible entities from his skin. An ambulance rushed down the street at full throttle, finding the man unconscious in a pool of crimson liquid.

Four hours later and medics confirmed that he had gone mad from an unknown source. But as they said this, millions from all around the world became mad too, all with different circumstances. Some were reported to be flinging themselves at walls, apparently trying to run away from some beast chasing them. Others were cutting off their limbs, saying that there were twelve legged spiders with tails trying to crawl up their arms. Most of them were howling about some impossible thing happening to them, and the people around them could not see what they could.

By now, most of the scientists and medics had concluded that the atomic bombs had spread madness to people whom hadn't been killed from it, but were close enough to it to inhale its contents.

Some countries were vile with their punishments for the insanity victims, and shot them mercilessly. Most countries, however, sent the madmen to Australia like convicts from the 1800s, as the isolated country hadn't been bombed and had quite an efficient amount of hospitals and places for the incurably mad.

After Simon heard about the death of one of his two saviours, he ran away from the cheap apartment they had rented, trying to escape from the madness.

He didn't make it far.

Four hours after he desperately tried to run away from the insanity around him, he fell victim too. He was found rolling around in the dirt, throwing it up in the air and yelling shrilly, "I command the ice!"

He was identified as 60% insane, as he hadn't actually tried to hurt himself or anyone around him. They sent him to the closest home for the incurably mad, horrifying named Pendleton Asylum.

The people who worked at the asylum wore grey pants and a darker grey shirt with medium length sleeves. They guided Simon, whom had his hands tied behind his back, to his shared cell.

Most asylums didn't share cells, but Pendleton was a reincarnation of a prison, so it had two bedded cells, courtyards, dining rooms and recreation rooms.

Once the men in grey walked Simon past the recreation rooms, he started howling about how he wanted to play in the snow. They shook their heads worryingly, figuring that the crazy man must've had some nostalgia in his insanity.

They threw him into a second-floor cell and locked the steel bars behind him. As he face planted into the ground, he stopped yelling about snow and ice, and craned his neck to look at the unsettling darkness before him. There was a body, propped up against the corner, but it was barely visible in the lightless crevice. The only thing he saw were eyes.

Bright, burnt sienna eyes that flared like fire.


	2. Chapter 1: Grey Eyes, Red Eyes, Ice Eyes

Instantly, upon looking into those devious eyes, Simon backed away, pressing into the steel columns of the _cage _so harshly his spine felt like it was about to crack. Those eyes scared him, like the devil himself was trapped in them, about to unleash his fury onto anyone whom happened to gaze into those hellish eyes.

He whipped his neck around to face at the men in grey walking away down the isle, leaving him alone with this creepy-eyed stranger. They carried a trolley stacked with sterile needles, jars of fluids and a few other unnameable objects.

Simon reached out an arm through the cell bars, desperately clawing at the air on the other side, trying to attract attention to himself.

"Help!" he yowled, fear gluing onto his features; a hooked nose, thin yet wide lips, and ice-blue eyes shielded by cracked, blue lenses.

The men in grey didn't even so much as glance at the wailing Simon, and they continued down their path to the other cells, every now and then slapping an extended arm away.

"There's no use, old man," the voice from inside the cage with him hissed.

Simon's heart thundered, a rising lump forming in his throat as panic bloomed in his cold, ice eyes.

He swivelled onto his back, raising his arms to defend himself as he glared into those demonic eyes once again.

"Stay away! Don't make me freeze you to the spot!" he yelled with a slight tremor in his voice, seeming less brave than intended.

"Oh please," the owner of the auburn eyes cackled, a sinister and horrifying laugh indeed.

The figure stepped away from their corner and sauntered into visible light, a devilish smirk tugging at their lips, exposing sharp canines.

"You're a chick?" Simon gasped, a shocked expression settling onto his face as his mouth gaped open.

"Why are you so surprised?" the woman snarled, her canines unmistakably sharper than most as she bared them.

Simon hesitated, trying to think of words to utter, but his mind was clogged up with the constant thoughts of ice and snow.

_So this is what it feels like to be insane._

With his overly long pause, he decided to study his cell-mate's features. She was tall (probably of average height for her age, which he guessed was somewhere in the early twenties) with slender limbs and stomach, along with a mane of raven hair that snaked down her back until it was inline with the centre of her belly, which contrasted with her pale skin.

Her most noticeable features were her almost crimson eyes, sharp canines and smug expression that didn't seem to waver.

"That's what I thought," she growled at Simon's silent response, her lips pursing into a thin line.

"W-who are you?" he asked with a chilly tone, the fear slowly but steadily fading away from his expression and body language as he crawled to his knees and stood up woozily.

A small laugh rumbled from her throat, less sinister than her previous laugh and sounded more like '_heh heh heh_,' than a witch's snicker.

"You can call me Marceline," she responded, a smug look still set on her face as she pierced her gaze into Simon's eyes. "And what about you, crazy old man?"

"The name's Simon, but I'm not a 'crazy old man'," he huffed, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Whatever you say," she snorted, turning away from Simon and lumbering over to her bedside. "Welcome to the loony bin."

_Loony bin..?_

"Do you know why I'm here?" he asked, truly wondering why he was placed in an asylum if he felt 90% sane.

Marceline fell back into her thin bed with a devious smirk, letting loose another '_heh heh heh_,' laugh.

"Because you're insane!" she answered, rather cheerfully, but in a mocking tone as she threw her hands into the air and then folded them behind her neck.

"I don't feel insane…"

"Maybe you're just not 100% insane?" the woman shrugged as a sneer twisted onto her lips.

Simon's pupils narrowed, and as he was about hiss a snarky remark, he thought wiser of his decision and decided to get to know Marceline better, if he were to share a cell with her.

"What are you here for?" he asked rather cautiously, his frown ceasing and a questioning expression coming to play.

Marceline glared at Simon, a toothy grin spreading across her lips as she chuckled her defining laugh.

"I was caught _eating _someone's neck," she answered, spitting out 'eating' with distaste. "Though I believe that's a poor choice of words, because I ain't a zombie."

"You're more insane than me," Simon breathed, his eyes widening at Marceline's confession.

"Insane? Hah! You've got it all wrong bud," the raven haired woman scoffed as she hauled herself off the bed and strutted over to Simon. "I'm nowhere near insane."

"Then why are you here?" the ice eyed lad queried, shifting uncomfortably as the lass leaned against the wall, glaring at him with her fiery eyes.

"Because people _think _I'm insane." Marceline raised an eyebrow, waiting for some sort of comeback or protest against her words, but Simon watched her with caution and kept his mouth shut.

"Do _you _think I'm insane?" she asked in a dark tone that suggested that Simon wouldn't have a choice to answer or not.

Simon swallowed his fear, a lump in his throat that ceased to disappear. "I don't know you well enough to make that judgement."

Marceline smiled, but it was a horrific smile that showed she got pleasure from his answer. Her face twisted demonically as she stared into Simon's soul with those piercing blood eyes.

"Good answer," she said, and was about to continue talking until a high pitched wail sounded through the halls of Pendleton Asylum.

Marceline clapped her hands together, a devilish smirk curling at her lips as she rubbed her fingertips and glanced at the cell bars, just over Simon's shoulder. Sensing that she was looking past him, Simon twirled around and gazed through the steel bars with curiosity, watching the other people in cells doing the same.

"What's going on?" Simon asked, throwing a glance back at the goth girl.

"It's visitor time!" she exclaimed and walked over to the cell bars, crossing her arms across her chest and waiting smugly for someone she knew to pass.

After a few people passed, Simon saw someone that made him glimpse over their direction. A woman, possibly of Marceline's age, with dark blonde hair tinged with auburn red. She wore a white long-sleeved shirt with an opaque pink zebra pattern, and denim shorts that just brushed past her thighs.

She turned around and almost caught Simon staring at her in the process, making him go red in the face as she strode down another hallway.

"Are you checking her out?" Marceline mocked with a sly grin curved on her lips, an eyebrow cocked.

"What? No!" he snapped defensively, stroking his hair with a sweaty hand.

Marceline snickered, a kind of cute laugh compared to her previous. "I wouldn't be surprised; I mean, she is hot."

He frowned and turned to look at the raven, whom was wiggling her eyebrow contemptuously.

"Do you know her name?"

Marceline shrugged. "Nope, only arrived to Loonyland a day before you."

"Yo Marcy!" someone called out from the other side of the steel bars.

Simon swivelled to face the direction of the voice, and a man, possibly slightly older than Marceline, stood before the two cell-mates. He had jet hair ruffled in a messy style, with skin so white it was almost the exact contrast of his hair. He stood at least 20cm higher than Simon, so that the ice eyed man was looking into his shoulder plate. Simon observed his clothing choice; a grey shirt, hidden underneath a thick leather jacket with metal studs, and black jeans fitting loosely around his waist, ending with black skate shoes.

_This man is very grey._

Even his eyes were blue-grey, like a dull, rainy morning's sky.

"Marshall!" Marceline exclaimed, a genuine grin set on her lips, along with cheery eyes that seemed to have less fire in them than usual.

He tugged a keycard out of his pocket and stuck it into the electronic lock on the doorway. It beeped once and the door unlocked, Marceline swaggering out through it. She extended a fist and bumped it with Marshall's, both of them grinning madly.

"It's been so long since I've seen you; after they took you away that is," Marshall said, smiling, and then nodded towards Simon. "Who's this dude with you?"

"Just some old guy who arrived here today," she answered with a small shrug. "Anyway, let's head to the recreation room before you have to leave; I need to speak with you _privately_."

As she hissed 'privately', she glared at Simon, and pushed past Marshall.

"Sorry dude, I can't let you out," he said, a glint of guilt in his dull eyes, and he slammed the cell door shut, leaving Simon alone in the ghostly cell.

He shivered, watching the two goths rush off out of his field of vision, and laid back in his uncomfortable bed.


End file.
